by Aimée Thurlo
* * *
It was close to 5:00 PM, and Charlie was getting hungry when a voice came out clearly over the bug monitor. It was Sheila.
“I’m going through all kinds of shit, but with my son gone I’ve got to hold it together. Payback is a guarantee now, but these pawnshop assholes know what’s coming and will be ready. I’ve got to hold back and keep them looking over their shoulders, awake at night, wondering if they’re going to be alive in the morning. Then, in a month, or three months, when they think maybe they can finally relax—boom!”
“Boom?” Gordon mouthed, raising his eyebrows. Neither of them had so much as breathed once Sheila started speaking.
Charlie shook his head, rolling his eyes, still listening intently.
“We need to keep a very low profile,” Sheila said next, and there was the sound of a car door opening. “Tonight, Leroy and I will take care of the restaurant, calm our staff down, and conduct business as usual. We may have to run off some reporters once word gets out regarding my son, but we’ll tough it out. I’ve got good people working at Piñon Mesa, and, if anything, business will probably pick up a bit.”
“The boss would smile at that thought,” came Leroy’s booming voice.
Charlie looked over at Gordon. “Does that sound…”
“Rehearsed, and contrived. Either somebody’s gone mechanical or they’re acting this out for us,” Gordon replied. “We’re being played.”
“Badly. They found the bug,” Charlie agreed. “The third person, the one Sheila was talking to when she mentioned Leroy, must have swept the vehicles too.”
There was the sound of machinery and Charlie looked down the street. Gordon was watching again with the binoculars.
“The garage door is opening, here comes the SUV … no, it’s a white Nissan cargo van.”
Charlie looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Sheila behind the wheel?”
Gordon shrugged. “Looks like. The windows are tinted, but I can make out a dark-haired woman—not Leroy, that’s for sure. Take a look.”
Charlie took the binoculars and focused on the commercial-style vehicle backing through the opening gate. “Wonder where she’s going? Making a business run?”
“Let’s follow.” Gordon started the engine. “DuPree’s team has the house covered, and we’re not going to get anything useful from the bug anymore.”
Charlie’s phone rang. “Hello,” he said, putting Nancy on speaker.
“That’s Sheila in the van, right?” Nancy asked.
“I think. We’re going to see where she’s headed.”
“My thoughts, exactly. But didn’t you lose the last person you tried to tail?”
“Blabbermouth,” Gordon said.
“Yeah, are we getting any help from other units?” Charlie asked, ignoring Gordon, who was creeping down the street as the Nissan turned left at the next corner.
“DuPree is on the ball and is going to acquire use of the APD fixed wing aircraft, which is above the Paseo Del Norte construction project beside the interstate. Just keep the vehicle in sight a few more minutes. I’ll give you a number and you can contact the aircraft directly. I’ll also call the state police officer in Corrales and put him on alert.”
“Copy. And thank DuPree.”
“Copy.” She ended the call.
“About time. Eye in the sky. Almost as good as a drone,” Gordon said, grinning, but keeping his eyes on the prize.
The drive took them north and east, and again, along the way, they lost her. Charlie called the cell phone of the spotter in the light plane somewhere overhead.
“You sure? West on Alameda?” Charlie said, loud enough for Gordon to hear, who turned north and sped up Fourth Street.
“Unless she turns back south on Rio Grande, she’s heading across the river to either Rio Rancho or the village of Corrales,” Gordon advised.
Charlie stayed on the line and listened. After about five minutes, he got another report from the spotter plane.
“She pulled over at a convenience store on Alameda Boulevard, a few blocks east of the bridge,” Charlie reported, “and Corrales.”
Gordon nodded. “Then we’ll get to the river first. Wanna take a position ahead of her and guess at her destination?”
“Yeah, if she’s headed for Jayne’s house, we can be ready before she arrives,” Charlie responded.
“Let us know if and when the van crosses the bridge. We think she’s eventually headed for Corrales,” Charlie said to the observer overhead.
He held the phone to his ear as Gordon reached Alameda Avenue from Rio Grande, then was forced to stop and wait at the stoplight. They were already a mile down Corrales Road when the spotter spoke again.
“Thanks,” Charlie said, then told Gordon. “She’s heading this way. Drive past the lane leading to Jayne’s house, then do a one-eighty and park beside the road so we can keep watch. It’s just ahead—Peach Tree Lane.”
“Got it,” Gordon replied. “What about the cop?” Gordon asked, pointing at the black-and-white state police car sitting just off the shoulder of the highway.
“I’ve got his number. I’ll ask him to drive on into Corrales. We don’t want to scare Sheila off right now,” Charlie reminded, reaching for his phone again.
A few minutes later, they were parked beside the road beneath some huge cottonwood trees with branches that draped over half the highway.
“Here she comes,” Gordon announced. “This might just be a recon, you know. The woman would have to be stupid to try a hit in daylight.”
“Or crazy,” Charlie said, looking down at the Beretta he had in his lap. “When I called Jayne, I told her and Rand to stay away from the doors and windows until we showed up. But if Sheila gets out and makes a move toward the house or pulls a weapon…”
“We take her down,” Gordon answered. “You better hit the floor before she sees you,” he added, turning so he wasn’t looking at the approaching white Nissan as he pretended to talk on his cell phone.
* * *
It was a recon, apparently, because the Nissan drove slowly down the graveled lane, which led to eight homes on one-acre lots, turned around at the end of the dead-end street, then came back out and headed south in the direction of Albuquerque.
Gordon started the engine and Charlie, who’d ducked again, sat upright. “Time to put the plan in motion? I’m anxious to see why you think I can pass for Jayne’s loser boyfriend.”
Charlie laughed. “Jayne says Rand is a changed man, so maybe I’m wrong about that.”
“I guess that depends on what Rand’s changed into, I guess. Is he compact and fit like me, or bulky and flabby, like, say, yourself?” Gordon teased.
Charlie looked over at his best friend. “I’d arm wrestle you for the championship, but I’d probably break your arm, as small and delicate as you are.”
“If that’s your way of backing out, I understand. Now let’s go deal with your sister and her boy toy,” Gordon said, turning down the lane.
Charlie was halfway up the flagstone walk when Jayne opened the door. She was the looker in the family, with her mom’s high cheekbones, eyes, and slender build, and had her legions of suitors even back in middle school. If it hadn’t been for him, and Al, and mostly Dad …
Jayne rushed out toward him, and before Charlie knew what was going on she had her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“Charlie. It’s so good to see you. I’ve been so worried about you and Al. He said you saved his life,” she whispered, her words all coming out at once. He hugged her back, then lifted her off the ground for a second.
“Good to see you too, shorty. For a second there, I didn’t know if you were going to hit or hug me,” Charlie replied. It had been a long time since he and Jayne had exchanged anything besides criticism.
He held her at arm’s length, looking at the smile on her face and her sparkling eyes. She was happy, healthy, and in a good mood.
Charlie looked over at Rand, a short Anglo with a wr
estler’s build and pale blue eyes. He was standing in the doorway, hesitation in his expression. Their last encounter hadn’t been friendly. Rand looked kind of odd, and Charlie realized that was because the man now had neatly groomed, short blond hair and was wearing a shirt with a collar and tan slacks instead of calf-length shorts. It was almost a transformation. Today Rand looked more like a choir boy than a punk East Central drug dealer, his last incarnation.
Gordon came up behind Charlie. “Uh, bro, let’s take this inside. We need to stay on schedule.”
“Hi, Gordon,” Jayne said, grinning and reaching over and giving him a quick, one-armed hug. “Come on in and tell me how you and my big brother are going to save our butts.”
* * *
Nancy arrived about five minutes later driving her own vehicle, the Jeep. She was wearing a long black wig and dressed in civilian clothes except for her service weapon. In one hand she carried a rifle case.
After quick introductions Nancy and Jayne hurried into one of the bedrooms of the old adobe house. The three men stood around for a moment, then Charlie spoke softly. “Rand, I barely recognized you. You treating my sister right?”
Rand was nervous, clearly, but not nearly so much as the last time he and Charlie had spoken. “I understand how protective you and Al are of your sister and I appreciate how Jayne has helped me turn my life around. I’m not bullshitting you either,” he added, his voice gaining confidence as he looked up at Charlie, who was almost a foot taller and sixty pounds heavier.
“You got a real job now?”
“Yes, for the last six months. I’m in a training program at Verizon, working full time in a local store, and have already applied for a management position. I’ve been passing all my drug tests and I won’t be going down that path again. Jayne is my partner, inspiration, and harshest critic. I’m not going to let her down.”
Charlie held out his hand to shake. “Good to hear. Just treat my sister and yourself as if your life depended upon it.”
Rand looked at him curiously, nodded, then shook his hand.
“Speaking of your life depending on it,” Gordon spoke, “if I’m supposed to be passing for you, Rand, I’ll need to borrow one of your shirts and a pair of those killer slacks. Our hair length and color are close enough, and I can slump down a little to match your height.”
Rand smiled and Charlie chuckled. If anything, Rand was an inch taller. “Okay, as soon as the ladies come out of the bedroom,” Rand said. “I’ve already laid out something that should fit you. The good news is that I wear my shirt tail out when around the house, so it’ll be easier to hide your pistol.”
“While we’re waiting, let’s go over your part in this,” Charlie said.
“Okay. Jayne and I drive Sergeant Medina’s Jeep north out of Corrales instead of south so we won’t pass by anyone coming over from Albuquerque who might be looking for us. We continue on to the town of Bernalillo, head east, then return to Albuquerque via the interstate. We go straight to your friend Gina’s town house. We stay there with Gina until we get the all-clear from you.”
“Exactly, and don’t go or stop anywhere else or contact anyone except for Gina, Sergeant Medina, or me until we say you’re out of danger,” Charlie said. “Got that?”
“Yes. What about Al’s family and your parents?” Rand asked.
“They know the danger and are going to be somewhere else until this is over,” Charlie answered.
Just then, Nancy and Jayne came out of the bedroom. Nancy had applied heavy, darker makeup to give her Jayne’s skin tones, which would work at a distance or in low light. Jayne’s long black hair was tucked into a cap and she was wearing glasses and a bulky sweatshirt and skirt.
“Didn’t know you had a skirt,” Rand commented immediately. “You look so…”
“Sixties,” Gordon suggested. “And you, Nancy, look more like Jayne than she does at the moment.”
“Okay, now go and put on your Rand disguise, Gordon,” Charlie said, motioning toward the bedroom. Rand led the way.
Nancy walked to the window and closed the curtains halfway before stepping to the side and taking a look down the road. “It’ll be dark soon.”
Jayne came over and touched Charlie’s arm gently. “Sorry I was so … resentful last time you were here. It was like you thought I was a fool or something.”
Charlie shrugged. “What can I say, Jayne? I’m the kind of guy who insists on taking a position when it comes to people I care about. Either way, it looks like you’re on a good path right now,” he said, nodding toward the bedroom door. “Do you remember that President Reagan quote Dad used to repeat when we were in high school—every time we caught him checking up on us?”
Jayne laughed. “Trust, but verify. You know he was right?”
“Ronald Reagan?”
“No, smartass, Dad. And yes, I’m not closing my eyes around anyone in my life—until they’re family. And even then…”
The bedroom door opened, and Rand came out wearing a hoodie, jeans, and cross trainers. Gordon followed, dressed in a red knit work shirt with a company label and tan slacks. He wore his own brown deck shoes. Charlie noted the bulge of the Beretta at his waist beneath the shirt.
Nancy stepped over and looked Gordon up and down. “For a man, you’ll do.”
They all laughed, then Nancy turned, shook Jayne’s hand, then gave her the keys to the Jeep. “You kids get going and stay safe. If you get lost in Albuquerque, the GPS on the dash will lead you straight to Gina.”
“Be careful, guys,” Jayne said, smiling at Gordon, then Charlie before reaching out and touching him lightly above his heart.
“Always. Same to you two,” he added, walking toward the door.
Thirty seconds later the Jeep was heading toward Corrales Road.
Nancy turned to Charlie and Gordon. “It’s six PM and we don’t know how much time we have. Let’s settle on a tactical plan, break out the hardware, then get Big Brother out of sight before the entertainment arrives.”
Nancy flipped on the porch light, turned the TV to the local news, then went into the kitchen. “There’s a pizza in the freezer, so that’ll be dinner tonight. You keep watch, Gordon, and, Charlie, grab the shotgun from the case then get into the bathroom.”
“Can’t I hide in the closet?” Charlie joked. He walked into the bedroom and opened the gun case, lifting out the weapon. It was fully loaded with buckshot, but he took the extra bandoleer of shells with him as he crossed the hall and stepped into the bathroom.
Here he could remain with the light on, sitting at least, and be instantly ready. The window above the tub was frosted, with a dark shower curtain that further concealed his presence.
Charlie checked out the shotgun. It was a short, tactical semiauto model good for providing close-in firepower without penetrating thin walls and hitting his own people. He’d looked over the adobe walls when first arriving and was very familiar with the ballistic protection the thick mud and straw offered. Most of the civilian structures he’d encountered in Iraq and Afghanistan were made of mud and stone. These walls were thick enough to stop or slow down anything smaller than a fifty cal.
The doors and the windows were the exception, and Nancy didn’t want any rounds to reach one of the neighborhood homes. They all realized that if they were right, when Sheila finally walked through that door she’d be coming to kill someone. She and Clarence had a violent history, at least in the past few months. If Sheila had been the one who pulled the trigger on Cordell Buck and set off the bomb that killed the men hired to take out Bitsillie, there was no reason to expect anything different tonight.
Charlie sat there, waiting and listening to the low conversation taking place outside in the living room and kitchen. Gordon and Nancy were trying to decide when Sheila would arrive tonight—if at all. If the woman was planning on biding her time, how long would Jayne have to hide out?
He heard footsteps. “Yo, Charlie. Want some pizza?” Gordon whispered.
Looking
around at the shower, the sink, the tiny medicine cabinet, then the porcelain throne he was seated upon, he decided that in spite of all this, he’d had dinner in a lot less appropriate places. There were no deceased people or animals within sight, and besides, the tiny room looked spotless. It even smelled like lavender.
“Sure,” he said. “Just give me a minute to wash my hands.”
A half hour later, sitting in the dark and already cursing the slow but consistent drip, drip coming from the mineral-encrusted shower head, he heard the low rumble of a vehicle and the crunch of tires in gravel.
“Vehicle outside,” Nancy called. “White Nissan cargo van wearing a FedEx sign.”
Charlie opened the bathroom door halfway, then reached over and picked up the shotgun he’d leaned against the sink. After verifying he’d already chambered a shell, Charlie inched out so he could see down the hall into the living room. When the front door opened, he’d be able to see whoever came into the small foyer. “Copy,” he whispered, his hands shaking just a little.
“Same here,” Gordon said. “Remember. Make her come inside before you expose yourself,” he added softly.
“Copy,” Nancy responded.
Once he’d lowered the shotgun barrel to a forty-five-degree angle, Charlie’s hands stopped shaking. He’d always been nervous and on edge before and after a mission when the tension had no real outlet, but never during the actual event. His training was that good—and he’d always been too busy to get emotional during a firefight. He looked down at the relatively unfamiliar weapon to make sure the safety was off. His gut told him that shots would be fired within a few minutes, and at this range with the buckshot all he had to do was point and squeeze the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-three
There was a firm double knock on the front door. “FedEx. I have a package for Ms. Henry,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice called out clearly.
That’s not Sheila Mae Ben, Charlie realized instantly. Then who the hell was it? Really FedEx?
“Coming,” Nancy replied, then nodded to Gordon, who was crouched behind the sofa, looking out at armrest level. Then she glanced over at Charlie, who was angled so all she could see was the shotgun, his right arm and shoulder, and half of his face. Her pistol was still holstered, on her right hip but within reach.